


everybody wants to rule the world

by luminaryhowell



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anxiety, Descriptions of Blood, Descriptions of wounds, Fantasy Violence, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Gay, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Oppression, Original Character Death(s), Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, executions, ok i think i'm done, peasant!phil, prince!Dan, slave!phil, this is my first time posting on ao3 how many tags are there jeez
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminaryhowell/pseuds/luminaryhowell
Summary: Heir to the throne of Croma, a ruthless kingdom which revels in war and enslaves those it conquers, Dan Howell has never felt more trapped. The royal family is holding a week-long gala in his honour, and when Dan is surrounded by the plastic smiles and rampant rumours of high society, his nightmares come to life: the people are power-hungry, and he must become cold-blooded king they long for.It seems his only hope comes in the form of Phil Lester, a nobleman's son with oceans for eyes and a similar desire for peace and justice. He draws out feelings that have been buried for years, and before he can blink, Dan is swept into a love so passionate, so clandestine, his name could be ruined forever.But a storm is brewing below the surface. Croma is built upon a nation of slaves, squashed under the Empire's boot, and their cries for freedom echo through the streets. No one can be trusted in a world full of greed, cruelty and lies. Even Phil has secrets of his own...Is seven days all it takes for everything Dan has ever known to be torn apart forever?





	1. day 0. there's no turning back

**Author's Note:**

> ♛ premise: a prince x slave au based on lorde's remake of _everybody wants to rule the world_ by tears for fears. inspiration has been drawn from multiple songs and novels, including marie rutkoski's _the winner's trilogy._
> 
> ♛ playlist:  
> \- _the prologue_ by halsey  
>  \- _team_ by lorde  
>  \- _dazzle_ by oh wonder  
>  \- _too good_ by troye sivan  
>  \- _i found_ by amber run  
>  \- _hopeless_ by halsey  
>  \- _big guns_ by ruelle  
>  \- _i started a joke_ by confidentialmx  
>  \- _the war_ by haux  
>  \- _everybody wants to rule the world_ by lorde
> 
> ♛ extra info:  
> \- asterisk (*) indicates a time skip  
> \- crown (♛) indicates a pov change

A middle-aged man, skin nearly bulging out of a silver waistcoat and a moustache growing like fungi on his lip, emerged from a wealthy villa with his young wife attached to his arm. The cream lace hem of her dress hovered over the cobbles as her husband guided them to their awaiting carriage. Two younger men, one with stick-like limbs and another heavily set in his tuxedo, quickly followed the couple.

The sky had taken on hues of pale orange, pink and honey as evening descended over the Kingdom of Croma. Shadows had just begun to creep out of their nooks and alleyways, lamps flickered to life behind windows and mothers ushered their children inside out of the cold. The common people would soon disappear behind locked doors and not emerge until sunrise, but it was a different story for the wealthy.

Lord Haines pulled his coat tighter around his chest and offered a hand to help his wife into the carriage. Once she was comfortably settled in the cushions he turned to the two young men, glanced between them and then around the street in confusion. “Hugo, where in God’s name is our escort?” he snapped at the skinny boy.

Hugo flinched at his father’s tone and wrapped his arms around his torso protectively. “I – I’m not sure, Sir, he was just behind me–”

“For God’s sake, if we don’t arrive to the King’s gala on time I’ll have that drudge beaten for his foolishness. Go and fetch him, Hugo.”

Hugo nodded, spun on his heels and sprinted back through the grand doors of the villa. He returned moments later with a white-faced man dressed in regal livery, but his hollow cheekbones and bony hands said otherwise about his wellbeing. Lord Haines narrowed his eyes at the slave and roughly grabbed his arm.

“My lord, I – I apologise–” the poor man stuttered.

“Why were you not here, what took you so long?”

“I was…A few of the tapestries were out of place and I–”

“Do you wish for my protection? Or would you prefer if I sent you back into the trade system?” Lord Haines growled. “Where they whip and torture and punish?”

The slave trembled when he shook his head. “N-No, my lord, please, I am dreadfully sorry–”

“ _Might_ I remind you that my family’s stay in this country is only temporary? Once we return to Hathage, you will return to your slave dealer. Now join the coachman at the front before I cut short your time as my escort and throw you to the streets.” Lord Haines spat at the escort’s feet, who gave a small nod and shuffled to the front of the carriage.

The rest of the family turned a blind eye to the slave’s abuse as they entered the carriage and the coachman’s whip made a resounding crack against the horses’ skin. The vehicle flew down the darkening hill, hooves clattering on the cobblestones. They nearly quipped a frail woman crossing the street, who had to rush to avoid the carriage when it wouldn’t slow.

Across Croma, families who lived in splendour and opulence all gathered into vehicles so they too could travel to the King’s palace, where a week-long gala was being held in honour of his son’s twenty-first birthday. Anyone of wealth or importance had been invited to witness the Prince’s recognition as an adult, and his official agreement to succeed his father as King when the time came. The Haines family was among the many foreigners expected to show up, having travelled all the way from Hathage, an old ally of Croma. Lord Haines removed his fob watch every five minutes to check the time, sweating and desperate to arrive on time to his first visit to the palace.

The carriage clattered past towering villas fenced for protection and surrounded by cottages with thatched rooves or worn wooden frames; it passed the lower-class men commuting from hard labour, villagers closing down businesses for the night, and slaves scooping horse manure from the gutters.

“We’re nearing the palace checkpoint,” Lord Haines muttered mostly to himself as he stared anxiously through the window. “It’s sitting just over the next hill.”

The carriage turned down a deserted alleyway, a shortcut, and shadows consumed it. The coach was completely oblivious to the man upon a rooftop, his stomach pressed to the cracked tiles and a crossbow clutched in his arms. The arrow pointed downward towards the incoming carriage, following the movements of the horses. With a silent exhale, the man released the arrow and watched it twirl down through the air. The arrow head slammed into the coachman’s skull.

And everything seemed to happen at once. The horses shrieked and reared upwards as the coachman tumbled to the ground; hauling on the reins, the escort managed to bring the horses to a halt; and screams of terror erupted from inside the carriage as the escort let out a soft, low whistle.

They appeared like phantoms, covered in black and creeping out of the shadows towards the family panicking inside the cabin. These other slaves had escaped their masters’ villas to be here tonight, to sabotage the wicked aristocrats.

The slaves climbed quietly into the carriage. The Haines made no sound as their mouths were clamped shut and their throats slit. Ten minutes later, the family lay dead and naked in their carriage as the ambushers donned their evening wear.

A beefy man similar in age to Lord Haines awkwardly climbed into his suit, while a slim woman with cropped blonde hair shimmied into the wife’s dress and two younger slaves slipped on the tuxedos of the Lord’s sons. Meanwhile, the escort began dressing in the attire of the coachman.

“This carriage belonged to the Haines,” the escort announced quietly once everyone was ready. He no longer looked like the weak and petrified servant from before, but rather like a confident leader. “They arrived here at their holiday villa yesterday, and the King is expecting this family at his gala tonight. Hopefully no one will notice the _actual_ family’s disappearance, as they’re foreigners. You all know how this is going to work. I have now become the coachman, so it is my job to transport you to the palace and return to headquarters. Markus–” He pointed at the beefy man. “–you are posing as Lord Evan Haines.”

The escort shoved a finger in the woman’s direction. “Hazel, you are now Lady Ania Haines.”

Another directed at one of the younger men, slim-fingered and wide-eyed. “Tarquin, you’ve become their son, Nikolaus Haines.”

“And Phil,” the man said, pointing at the scrawnier of the two, “you are the other son, Hugo Haines.”

“Run us through the plan again, Jonas,” Markus grunted, hoisting his dress pants a little higher up on his waist. He was a large man, pot-bellied with arms like pig’s legs.

“Alright,” the escort, Jonas, nodded. “I’ll put it simply. I drop you off at the palace posing as the Haines. Tonight the King will host a welcoming ball; all of you take time to mingle with other guests and gain trust. Phil?”

The thin boy, hair so dark it melded into the shadows around him and skin as pale as snow, perked up once hearing his name. “Yes?”

“I trust you remember everything about your role in this?” Jonas asked.

“Yes,” Phil said again, nodding. “I’ve already been thoroughly briefed, twice. You can count on me.”

“Excellent. The rest of you have your own assignments, but ensure you keep up appearances, act as a family and attend events when necessary. I cannot stress enough how important it is that your covers aren’t blown until the week is up – it may cost you your lives.”

Tarquin, who had been listening intently, suddenly removed his fob watch from his breast pocket. “Jonas, I suggest we leave now if we want to arrive at the gala on time,” he said.

Jonas nodded. “Right. Yes. One last thing – I will get in touch with the Resistance and report back to our leader. It is vital that this night goes to plan – this may be our only opportunity to set things right, the way they should be.”

The group dipped their heads and hummed in agreement, before Jonas ordered them to dispose of the bodies and get settled in the carriage. Soon enough the slave was seated at the front of the vehicle; he scooped up the reins, brought them down hard upon the horses’ backs and the carriage lurched forward towards the King’s palace.

A few miles and a hundred worlds away, the King’s son sat on his private balcony, legs dangling through the balustrades as he observed carriages passing through the palace gates, one after the other. In that moment, all that churned in his mind were the guests he had to greet in half an hour’s time. What didn’t occur to him was how twisted his world would become in just a week.


	2. day 1. acting on your best behaviour

A golden sun kissed the horizon. It was framed by two mountains cast into shadow, almost like they were giving it a place to rest. Feather-like clouds drifted above into a whirlpool of blue and orange hues. The sun’s rays cast the colours into the sky, creating a blend perfect for the dusk of a night like this. 

Before the sun lay a kingdom, huts, cottages and bungalows jumbled together around the outskirts as if huddling close for warmth. Already their roofs had been subjected to darkness. Closer to the centre, homes turned into shops and businesses, a little more dispersed this time. Inns, taverns, blacksmiths and libraries gathered towards the grand hall; a gentle glow rose from the winding streets, indicating that activity hadn’t ceased just yet. Continuing up a wide slope, buildings became far more spread out, the hill decorated by imposing villas and estates littered with cottages and their sloping thatched roofs. The remaining light caressed the tips of these mansions, shimmering against their gold and silver embellishments. 

But the magnificent view was nothing different for the young man seated on the stone floor of a balcony, which looked out over Croma. He had watched the kingdom from this spot for years, legs sticking out through the balustrades, shoes threatening to slip off and tumble 40 feet to the courtyard below. It was his place. His place to sit, and think, and pretend that he was anywhere but that very balcony. 

The balcony which jutted out from the King’s palace, crouched at the top of the hill and looming over Croma like a formidable monster. 

Often, the young man wished he spent his days down in the city, away from the palace, but he was the King’s son. If he ever went into the city, it was once a month, with an army of soldiers and escorts glued to his back. 

“A prince always has a price on his head,” his father would tell him, and still told him now. “Be thankful for your protection, Daniel.”

The young man preferred _Dan_ , naturally, but his parents never understood that. And to the commoners and the Eluthian people, who were enslaved by Croma when the King’s forces conquered their nation, he was always _Your Royal Highness_ or _Your Majesty_ or _sire_. It was verbal torture. 

Though on the balcony, Dan felt he could escape it all. But never completely. 

His arms rested flat on the smooth stone parapet, chin laid on top of his wrists as his eyes wandered over the vast landscape before him stretching for miles and miles. Safe behind an overshadowing wall of limestone dotted with watchtowers, the kingdom was surrounded by crags and mountains, built upon raised land within a deep valley scattered with woodlands, quarries and waterways. There was only one entrance in and out of the area, a mountain pass heavily fortified by the King’s army. The kingdom was safe, protected and had the resources to grow into a powerful and intimidating empire. Croma was more than a force to be reckoned with. 

Eventually, Dan dragged his sulking brown eyes to the palace gates, these towering ornate things welded from gold and steel. For most of his life, they had been locked shut, but tonight they hung wide open to welcome a tsunami of guests. A familiar groan of anxiety twisted in his stomach when Dan looked upon the coaches and carriages flooding the royal court. They could only be weighed down by the most elite, heavy from wealth in their pockets and arrogance in their hearts. They were close friends and acquaintances of the royal family, as well as a large handful of the nobility, all invited to the King’s palace for a celebration. 

And oh, how Dan wished they were celebrating anyone but himself. 

Many months prior, plans and preparations had been made for this gala, which marked Dan’s 21st birthday and his agreement to succeed his father as King when the time came. By far, it was one of the most important and most extravagant events in Croma, stretching over an entire week. A week Dan was certain he wouldn’t survive. 

Without having to close his eyes, he could envisage what was expected of him in the next half hour or so. Standing stiff and proud at the rear of one of the many palace ballrooms, greeting every guest with a firm handshake or a bow and a polite grin. His parents would stand either side of him, all three flanked by guards with their glinting spears. Then would come the introductions to his countless bachelorettes – daughters of distinguished nobles and esteemed military generals, women from foreign nations in the far east, any girl of aristocracy deemed rich enough and strong enough for the prince’s hand, first in dance and then in marriage. 

Dan shuddered at the very thought of having to choose a bride from the pack, let alone greet each and every one of them. For not only was he celebrating his birthday, but it was tradition for the King’s son to select his wife during the week-long celebrations. Of course whoever she was wasn’t permanent, but soon would be if Dan never discarded her, as horrible as that sounded. He didn’t want to discard anyone, but he didn’t want to choose anyone either.  
_I wonder what would happen if I never left this balcony,_ he wondered, eyes following a random carriage gilded in gold. The vehicle circled the fountain in the centre of the courtyard once before the horses slowed to a halt at the entrance of the palace. Fifty stairs clambering up to carved oaken doors – as wide as his father’s throne and taller than five men stacked upon each other – is what led this family of four to the castle that dwarfed the kingdom. Dan turned away as the coachman cracked his whip against the horses and the carriage lurched forward. 

It was one amongst hundreds, surely – although, he’d never seen the official guest list. He couldn’t bear to find out how many haughty men and women would look upon him as their next great leader. The version of a leader they begged for, and one Dan feared he would become. 

With reluctant fingers, Dan reached into the lining of his pearl-white dress uniform, slipping out a fob watch from his jacket. The seal of Croma glared up at him from the lid, a shield and sword surrounded by the unfurling wings of a crowned eagle, the empire’s native creature. He flipped it open with a curt sigh. The watch revealed it was nearing 7 o’clock. Dear God. If he didn’t get downstairs now, his mother would wring his neck.

For the moment Dan tried to cast all thoughts of the looming evening from his mind. He tucked the watch away, wriggled back from the balustrades and straightened out his uniform. The balcony was wide, and ferns sprung from the floor gardens in the centre, but Dan had no problem manoeuvring his way inside. 

Just as he passed through the slim doorway, freshly-polished boots landing with a clack on the marble floor, he ran into someone.

A woman had rounded the corner, a black uniform dress hugging her short, plump build and golden hair pulled into a harsh bun at the back of her neck. Her hairline was hidden by a pristine white wrap. She cried out in shock once she registered the person in front of her, and stumbled back. Dan did the same.

It took a moment for both of them to recognize each other.

“Oh! Oh, Dan, I’ve finally found you,” the woman sighed in relief, flattening a hand over her chest and catching her breath. “The Queen is fit to burst with fury, you realize. Where in God’s name have you been? You have a ball to hold in less than thirty _minutes_.”

“Uh – yeah, yeah I know. Sorry Louise. I was just out on the balcony, like always.”

“Well, you obviously spent far too long out there. But your mother might not skin you alive if we head down now.”

Dan nodded, fiddling with his silver cufflinks as he followed Louise down a wide corridor to the left. The exasperated woman was the only slave in the entire palace permitted to call him by his first name. Naturally, as the nurse who had brought him up through childhood and adolescence, it was expected. She had bottle-fed him milk when he was only several months old, for goodness’ sake. In fact, Dan considered Louise more of a mother than his biological one. Even as a slave, she had a great deal of authority over the boy – if only by maternal standards. 

“The guests are already starting to mill in the great hall,” Louise told him as he finally reached her side. “You’ve got a sea of people to deal with, my dear. All of them dolled up in their finery…might as well be shouting, ‘Look at me! I have more piles of gold than I ever know what to do with!’”

Dan couldn’t help but snigger at her words, more than happy to hear the woman insult his subjects. Only when they were alone could they make fun of the outrageous nobility. If anyone else heard Louise speak of the people that way, she would be publicly whipped, especially as a slave expected to do nothing more than serve those higher than herself. Dan despised the whole system entirely.

“Is it possible for me to disappear into the walls and speak to no one?” he asked, glancing at the deep blue walls of the corridor as if he could melt into the patterned wallpaper forever. 

“You know those rumours of magic are nothing more than that – rumours. But if I could let you do that just tonight, I would,” Louise replied, sending him a comforting smile.  
They came to stop outside an ornate wooden door. The nurse turned to face Dan, squeezing his forearm gently. “Try not to panic. Although they’re idiots, they all adore you–”

“But that’s exactly what I’m scared of.”

“Darling…you’ll make it through tonight. I know you will. How many times now have you conquered parties like this?”

“I’ve lost count. But they’ve never been this massive and never about me.”

Louise huffed a sigh and swiped some invisible dust particles off his gold epaulettes. “Stop your complaining,” she told him firmly. “You’re a prince, aren’t you? And princes always face things head on, with as much courage as they can muster.”

Dan was pretty sure that wasn’t a universally known thing, but he nodded anyway. “I guess…”

“And besides, just think about the endless food you’ll get to eat. Then in a few hours, you’ll be able to crawl into bed with no one to bother you for the rest of the night.”

That _did_ sound very appealing. Slowly, a smile quirked up Dan’s features and Louise returned the grin, tapping him lightly on the nose with her finger. “There’s the Dan I know,” she murmured. “Now hurry up, you can’t keep the King and Queen waiting.”

Dan nodded again, ignoring the sudden stirring of the contents in his stomach. He watched as Louise pulled the door open to reveal a thin shaft with torches scattered along stone walls, stairs spiralling down to the ground floor. It was a shortcut to the main ballroom, where the first evening of the gala would be held. 

The boy took a few tentative steps onto the first platform, before turning to look at Louise. 

She gave him a lopsided smile. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get back,” she promised.

With that, Dan swallowed and closed the door, finding himself alone at the top of the spiral staircase. Then he drew a deep breath, carded fingers through his dusky brown curls and descended the steps – much like descending into his own version of hell. 

The chatter of the guests had grown into a nerve-wracking rumble when Dan found his parents. Although the shortcut had allowed him to calm the churning of his stomach, it was only a brief reprieve before the noise returned. It hung relentlessly around his ears like buzzing insects, and if he could swat them away he would do so viciously. 

The King and Queen waited for him in a secluded space at the back of the ballroom, hidden behind two towering crimson drapes. It was the space in which they had prepared for their grand entrance of the first night, receiving last minute touch ups to hair and formal wear. But, late as he was, Dan had no time for grooming. He burst into the room with a dishevelled fringe and nervous beads of sweat dampening his collar, a sight at which his mother nearly fainted when her eyes fell upon him.

“I’m terribly sorry I’m late,” Dan said immediately, the words tumbling from his mouth in a low rush. “I lost track of time, I didn’t think–”

“No, you never think, as you always do,” the Queen interrupted sharply. 

Dan’s chest tightened. “Sorry,” he murmured, reluctantly meeting the beady brown eyes of Jenea, his mother. She glowered up at him with narrowed lips to match, as intimidating as ever despite her short size. She’d been clothed in one of her finest dresses tonight, a gown of white decorated with lace and bedazzled in gold. A tiara rested gently upon her greying hair, which toppled over her shoulders in ringlets. To Croma’s people, she might have been the living definition of beauty, but Dan knew all too well what lay beyond that façade. She had a mind which dwelled on nothing but power, and a frozen heart which turned its head at the broken, the beaten and the damned. 

Her husband, King Arran, stood beside her with a disapproving look weighing upon his lined face. Even on the week of his succession, Dan couldn’t escape that look from his father. But the man had never been as harsh and domineering as the Queen, somehow maintaining the hope that Dan would become the triumphant king he pictured. Dan was almost miserable, knowing he would be let down.

With the introduction of the royal family about to begin, the Queen’s gloved hand closed around Dan’s forearm and she dragged him to stand between herself and her husband. “Fix your hair and straighten that coat,” came her snapping voice.

Dan did as he was told, attempting to brush his curls into a neat fringe before sweeping his fingers down his uniform. Then he lifted his head, the murmur of the guests returning to his ears. _Oh my God,_ he thought. He was about to be presented to all of Croma’s affluent citizens, on display for their judgmental eyes to study and gawk at. How he held himself as the Prince was to be tested tonight, as well as during the coming days. Every move he made, every word that left his mouth…all of it would be there for Croma to scrutinize. And if he screwed any of it up, then God help him.

Conversation that filled the ballroom simmered away as a voice boomed above the rest. The man’s words could’ve emptied Dan’s stomach themselves: 

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests and honourable men and women – I present to you His Royal Highness, King Arran of Croma, Her Royal Highness, Queen Jenea of Croma, and their admirable son and soon-to-be King of Croma, His Royal Highness, Prince Daniel.”

The guests erupted into deafening applause. The curtains began to sweep apart. The King and Queen straightened their backs and plastered warm smiles onto their faces. 

Dan sucked in a breath which quaked at the edges, and he watched as Croma’s crest was split down the middle. And for a moment, when his eyes locked onto the now divided crown that adorned the eagle’s head, a heavy sense of foreboding crept upon him like the shadow of a thundercloud. But notion was gone as quickly as it had come; Dan gazed upon the hundreds of faces grinning and celebrating his presence, and he understood that for the impending week, they were all his world revolved around.

*

Parties, balls and celebrations had always been things of tradition for the royal family. Every few months, a festivity of some kind was hosted for Croma’s nobility to revel in, in honour of a great military success, or perhaps a seasonal change or another birthday. But really, they were outlets for the King to showcase his power and wealth, throwing the common people under his shadow.

For 16 years of his pampered life, Dan had attended these celebrations with his parents. In fact, they were all that made his life interesting, despite how much he loathed them. The first he attended when he was 6 years old, an immense outdoor party to commemorate the spring months which promised new life among the livestock and harvest in the western grasslands. For the most part he tagged along with his parents, clinging to his mother’s satin skirt like it was a lifeline. 

In Dan’s little mind, the parties were never ending. Every _day_ it seemed he had to navigate through a scary forest of rich, important people; men in their regal war clothes and polished boots, and women with jewels on their throats and dresses layered with a hundred petticoats. He remembered how often his mother’s court friends would gush about him. They’d squeeze his cheeks, ruffle his hair, and say odd things like, “I remember when you were only months old! Look at you now! Oh, My Lady, you must be so proud…” but Dan had never seen them before in his life!

Then came the gentlemen, throwing one or two comments his way about how great a man he would become, before laughing to themselves at jokes he didn’t understand. But unlike most boys, Dan hadn’t longed to be one of them, to be _treated_ like them. All he wanted was to escape to his bedroom and play card games with Louise, or explore what lay beyond Croma’s walls. However, at such a young age, going past those walls was heavily forbidden, let alone leaving the palace gates. 

As he grew older, all those parties evolved from a childish fright into a foreboding fear. When he realised they no longer saw him as the adorable, naïve child he once was, the words of the nobility began to root in his heart. Gossip spread and rumours were left to boil. The Prince could never escape the public eye, and so anxiety and intimidation began to consume him until royal galas, like the celebration of his 21st birthday, were among his greatest fears. 

This would all explain the vomit that threatened to rise up his throat as he followed his parents through the crowd, greeting every guest. The men and women always painted smiles on their faces when talking to the royal family, but with years of experience Dan could recognise the true emotions in their eyes. Scowls and sly looks of disgust, watching, dissecting and judging him. 

Musicians in a far corner had picked up a floaty tune, mingling with talk and laughter in the background. Dan tried to settle his mind on the serene violins, trying to relax. Meanwhile, his mother stood beside him searching for the next acquaintance to chat with – and it didn’t take her long to find them.

“Sir Eliphas! What a pleasure to see you tonight,” the Queen enthused, causing an elderly gentleman in a military uniform to whirl away from his previous conversation.

His thin eyes widened as much as physically possible upon seeing the King’s wife standing before him. The man immediately dropped into a deep bow, taking her hand in his own and lightly kissing the top. “My Queen, the pleasure is completely my own,” he assured her, and then his eyes shifted to Dan before taking another bow. “And my Prince, it is an honour to greet you formally.”

 _Shut up!_ Dan wanted to shout. _This is ridiculous, I’m a human just like you._ But he reminded himself that he was royalty, and apparently he was to be treated like treasure no matter how equal he thought he was to others. 

“L-Likewise,” he eventually blurted. “But please, I dislike all that formality. There’s no need for titles and…stuff.”

This earned him a scathing look from his mother, and he expected no less. Sir Eliphas glanced up at him with shock and confusion riddling his features. “Your Majesty, I couldn’t possibly…”

“My son is a little overwhelmed by tonight’s proceedings,” the Queen interrupted hurriedly. “Of course you must refer to him with the proper titles.” 

Sir Eliphas hesitated before granting her a curt nod. “I wouldn’t do anything but, your Highness.” He gave Dan quite a reserved, baffled look before slipping away into the crowd.

Dan’s mother turned on him as soon as the gentlemen was gone, her face pulled into a harsh frown. She refrained from grabbing his arm. “Enough of this,” she hissed. “This is a ceremonial gala held in honour of _your birthday_ , and you have been nothing but vulgar and selfish. You are a prince, Daniel, and almost a king – act like one.”

A familiar pit of anguish hollowed out Dan’s stomach. “I’m sorry, mother,” he said quietly. 

“That is not nearly a good enough apology. But because we are surrounded by our kingdom’s highest society, I will drop the matter.” The Queen gave an exasperated huff, lifting her head and regaining her composure. “Now then. You are yet to meet and dance with your many suitors. _Please_ try to be more sociable with them tonight.” 

“Of course,” Dan replied, ignoring the pit which grew deeper at the mention of his bachelorettes. 

It was what he dreaded most about this week. How was he expected to select a bride within seven days? In fact, he couldn’t remember ever wanting a bride since he knew what marriage was. Girls had been shoved in his direction from the age of five, but not once had Dan experienced any attraction to them. When he was six, others would gush about how adorable a couple he and some nobleman’s daughter would make. But Dan had frowned and wriggled his toes in distaste. _Ick! I would never, ever kiss a girl. I don’t even like girls all that much!_

At such a young age, Dan thought this was all very normal. But as he became a teenager, he learned that the people around him saw it as abhorrent and unnatural. So he told no one when he grew shy and flustered around a particularly pretty boy, or when his downstairs area made a few special appearances as he spent time with the sons of his mother’s friends. It was his deepest, darkest secret, and although Dan himself saw nothing wrong with liking boys, he was forced to keep his feelings under lock and key. 

After all, how could a prince marry a man when he must have a queen? 

The voice of his mother drew him out of the thoughts he was buried in. “Now Daniel, you’re about to meet your first suitor. I want your head up, a smile on your face and your best decorum. This woman may possibly be your wife, so it is absolutely important you behave like a gentleman.”

“Yes mother,” Dan said clearly, standing tall for her sake. He quickly scanned the people around him for any younger-looking girls. 

“And make sure she feels respected and valued,” the Queen added.

“Of course, I would never do anything other than that.”

He followed his mother through the crowd, drawing in a deep breath when she raised her hand in a gentle wave towards someone. Quickly enough, a beautiful dark-skinned girl stood in front of him, wearing a silky marigold gown and a golden headdress upon a chignon of sleek black hair. Her parents – presumably – flanked either side of her in matching gold formal wear.

The Queen cleared her throat, smiling brightly at the trio before turning to Dan. “Darling, may I present the Count and Countess of Tawae, from the eastern province of Kashirid, and their daughter, Lady Asha.” 

Dan kept his gaze on the girl, offering her a kind smile. He knew all too well what to do. “It’s lovely to meet you, my lady,” he said genuinely, bowing and lightly kissing the top of her hand. “I am Prince Daniel, if you hadn’t already guessed. And might I say you look exquisite in that gown tonight.”

Lady Asha scrunched up her nose and giggled at his joke, before replying, “Thank you, your Highness. You look equally as handsome in your uniform.”

The compliment sent a grin across Dan’s features, but he felt nothing romantically. In fact, he only wanted to say sorry to the girl, sit her down and explain everything to her. She really was quite charming and deserved someone who would make her feel truly loved. Not himself. 

This exchange continued with eight other girls of royal or noble birth, most very beautiful and friendly in their own right, but Dan knew he could never love them. They greeted him with enthusiasm and charisma, enough to woo any man who was attracted to the opposite gender. However, no connections sparked within Dan’s heart and no butterflies crowded his stomach as he spoke to any of them. And just before his mother led him to the tenth and last suitor, a sudden cloud of terror fell upon him.

He had to marry one of these women. He would be forced to spend the rest of his life with them, kissing them, touching them, and being intimate with them. And it…sickened him. Not because of the girl herself, but the thought of being with a girl in _that_ way just made him feel gross, for lack of a better word. 

Dan would have a woman by his side throughout the rest of his life, a woman he could never love as a husband should. 

He was terrified.

*

“Daniel, may I introduce General Oskar Thaddäus, his wife Auguste and their wonderful daughter Maren.”

She had thin silver-blonde hair, pinned away from a pale face and tumbling down her back. It showed off her elegant features – alluring grey eyes, cheekbones travelling sharply towards full lips coloured mauve. Her pearl brocade dress exposed her collarbones, dipping inwards at the waste before tumbling down in a thick skirt. By all standards, Maren was – magnificent.

But once again, when Dan pressed his lips to the back of her gloved hand (something he’d now grown quite weary of doing) he felt nothing. 

“I hope you’ve enjoyed tonight so far?” he asked with a now-painful smile. “I think the royal staff have outdone themselves for decorations.”

It was too formal. Too fake. Too deceptive. 

Maren seemed to hear it differently. “On the contrary, your Highness,” she said sultrily, and brushed her fingers against his forearm, “it’s all very captivating – much like yourself.”

Dan raised a curious eyebrow. “You seem bold, Maren, especially in the Prince’s presence. Is that a trait of the Obodelians?” he teased, referring to the people of her own nation. 

“I’m afraid that’s just myself. Mother always told me how daring I was as a child. I was never afraid of getting myself into trouble.” There was some hidden message behind her eyes as she stared up at him sensually through her lashes. Dan was sure he didn’t want to find out. 

By now the Queen and Maren’s parents had dissipated back into the party, probably content with how well they seemed to hit it off. Dan only wished he could do the same. He dreaded where this conversation was heading, especially since the girl was so keen on him. Already her closeness made him want to sprint off into the maze-like corridors of the palace. But he was expected to spend quality time with every girl presented to him, no matter how uncomfortable she made him feel. So as Maren continued to throw flirtatious remarks at him every minute, he tried to prepare himself for the rest of the night, which was bound to be filled with many more distressing situations.

“So what was it like? Growing up in such a grand palace?” 

Maren raised a glass of champagne to her lips and poured a little down her throat. After more chatter filled with double meanings, Dan had reluctantly taken her to the enormous table of refreshments. She was more than willing to follow him, obviously pleased with how interested in her he seemed to be. But in reality, Dan had caught the scalding glare of his mother several times; he knew he was being watched.

“Probably worse than you’d imagine,” Dan replied honestly. “I get lost half the time through all the endless corridors, and very rarely do I ever leave the gates. It’s very confined.”

A frown tugged on Maren’s lips. “But surely there’s a lot of privacy? With so many bedrooms to hide away in…where you can do whatever you please…”

Dan cleared his throat. “Not when there are guards stationed literally _everywhere_. I swear they know more of the court gossip than I do.” 

“That’s interesting. You know, my family has guards in our private villa here as well as back home, but it’s only just occurred to me how much they probably listen in on. I mean, I barely know they exist! They must know all the scandals I tell my friends.”

 _Well, maybe you should pay more attention to those who would defend your life, no matter how cruelly you treat them_ , Dan wished he could say. 

“You should be more careful next time,” he replied with a pitiful wink. 

Maren paused for a moment, holding his gaze with a knowing smirk. And then she asked, “So Daniel, out of all your potential brides, who do you prefer?”

“Uh…” Dan felt trapped all of a sudden. He took a sip of champagne to stall for time. “I – I haven’t spent nearly enough time with all of them to decide. I’ll get back to you once the week is up.”

“I look forward to it,” Maren simpered. 

Before the conversation could continue, the Queen appeared at Dan’s side looking thoroughly stressed. She roughly turned her son round to face her. “Daniel, there you are. The first dance is about to begin, and it is _you_ who must lead first. I hope you haven’t forgotten–”

“Of course he hasn’t, your Majesty,” Maren butted in, slinking up to Dan and linking their arms together. “In fact, he’s chosen me as his first partner.”

A mixture of relief and fascination passed over the Queen’s face. “That’s wonderful to hear, Maren. I…I’m sure you’ll both woo everyone out there. And Daniel, don’t forget what you learned in those dance lessons.”

Dan found he had no say in the entire exchange, and could only nod at his mother. Suddenly, without letting him compose himself, a voice boomed out over the crowd. The chatter dissolved a little and all eyes turned to the announcer at the back of the ballroom. “Ladies, gentlemen and other noble guests, His Royal Highness, Prince Daniel, will now lead us in a slow waltz – the first dance of the night.” 

At this, applause once again erupted around the room. Dan shifted his gaze to Maren, smiled and bent his elbow for her to grasp. Now, it was time to pretend. 

The crowd parted instantly for the couple, looking on with wide, spellbound eyes as they glided towards the middle of the dancefloor. Dan held one arm stiff behind his back, chin tilted towards the ceiling. Maren’s dress swirled and shimmered across the patterned floor; she seemed as comfortable as ever in the nobility’s gaze. They came to a halt in the centre of the circle; Dan spun in his boots, interlocked his fingers with Maren’s and gently held onto her waist. Her spare hand rested on his shoulder. The zeal in her eyes couldn’t be missed. 

The first stroke of a violin was heard. Dan stepped forward, Maren stepped back, and suddenly they were dancing, drifting across the floor as the music filled the room. They seemed to hover above the marble, Maren’s skirt swirling outwards as Dan clutched her waist, desperately trying not to let her go. His dance tutor had taught him the waltz for _years_ , and if he screwed up now, it might as well be all for nothing. 

He spun her twice beneath his arm, and they continued to step in time with the music. Then he dipped her down towards the marble, pretending to be enthralled when she threw her head back and exposed her neck. Murmurs floated through the mass of guests. 

As the instrumental piece grew more intense, Maren drew herself closer to Dan, her hand shifting to rest beside his neck. Her fingers were like ice on his nape, and he wanted nothing more than to shove her away. That part of him was off limits to _everyone_. But Maren must’ve mistaken the discomfort on his face for embarrassment, and a smirk passed over her lips. 

She was close. Too close. He could almost feel her warm breath ghosting his cheeks. And she had this gleam in her eye, like she wanted something and was convinced Dan wanted it too. The pair were still completing the first waltz as the guests looked on, but all he could think about was her and the anxiety she was causing with her intentions. He could feel it mounting in his stomach, a horrible black thing eating him from the inside out. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of it. He wanted to end the dance right now, end the whole goddamn gala. 

The song was reaching its finale. Dan swiftly lowered Maren towards the ground again, before hauling her back up and spinning, spinning, spinning until the last bow left its violin. The music ended. They twirled to a stop, Maren pressing almost her entire body against Dan’s, breathing heavily into his ear. He could hear nothing but that, deaf to the clapping that followed their grand performance and the announcer’s next words, calling all the guests to join Prince Daniel and his captivating lady on the dance floor. 

“Well done, your Highness,” Maren whispered against his earlobe.

Dan closed his eyes and opened them, swallowing heavily. Then he pulled away from her slightly. “Th-thank you for not stepping on my toes,” he squeezed out awkwardly. 

Maren cocked her head, but she seemed amused. Couples began to surround them, grasping hands and waists and whirling off into their own worlds. “Well, we should hope it doesn’t happen in the next dance,” she smiled. 

Before he could object, Maren had whisked him back onto the floor. They melted quickly into the men and women around them, all caught up in another graceful waltz. Dan looked anywhere but his partner’s seductive expression. Her hands burned where they gripped his arms, and the heat and intensity she gave off started to make him a little dizzy. If he could just last one more waltz, _just_ this one, he could find someone else to dance with. Or even better, he could disappear…maybe hang around the buffet tables for a while – 

“You know, you’re not who I thought you would be, your Highness,” Maren spoke up quietly, drawing Dan’s eyes back to her. “But I like it. I like you. I hope we can grow what already exists between us.” 

“W-What?”

“Oh, don’t be coy, your Highness. I see fire in your eyes and I know you see it in mine.” Maren leaned in until her mouth was mere inches away from Dan’s. “You can’t deny the connection between us…” she murmured. 

Dan shrunk away from her puckered lips and half-lidded eyes, suddenly finding it impossible to breathe. And that was when he felt it – a calloused but warm hand grasping his bicep and yanking him away from Maren’s wandering hands. He watched the baffled expression take over her face at having her prince so rudely snatched away, then released a breath of relief and turned to see his timely rescuer.

He must’ve been the son of a wealthy lord or duke, elegantly dressed in a rich midnight tailcoat woven with regal patterns, and a matching black cravat. Underneath lay a stiff white waistcoat, which accompanied a pair of black pants and boots on his feet. Normally, Dan would’ve scoffed at his whole demeanour; his beak-like nose pointed proudly to the ceiling, his spare arm was held stiffly at his back and his chest puffed out. He’d known enough guys like this in his time to expect nothing but vanity and disdain from them.

But the young man had just saved him from Maren’s…well, sexual assault. Any other man would’ve smiled and given him a silent cheer at catching a woman, but surely this one had noticed how uncomfortable Dan was if he pulled him away so quickly? 

Suddenly the young man spoke, quickly shutting down all of Dan’s thoughts. His voice was surprisingly cadent, something like honey or the twinkle of champagne, but there was something odd about it that he couldn’t place…

“My apologies, ma’am,” the young man said, smiling and nodding at a hilariously aghast Maren. _She_ looked as if his voice was the vilest thing she’d ever heard. But Dan was sure neither of them expected what the young man said next:

“It just seems a bit rude of you to have the Prince all to yourself. May I step in?”

♛

The carriage was soundless. No one spoke a word. Not a breath or the rustle of clothes could be heard. Only the clattering wheels of the vehicle could ease the tension that suffocated the space.

A morbid cloud hung over everyone’s heads, like someone had died moments ago.

 _Well_ , Phil Lester thought, glancing at the droplets of blood that stained the inner wall, _someone has died. Multiple people, actually._

But he felt no sympathy for the murdered family, averting his eyes and peering out through the open window. He would never feel anything for those who had enslaved and tortured his people.

Lush gardens rolled by as the carriage made its way towards the palace. The sun had almost set, bathing the sky in a peachy glow. Towering pine trees, hedges whittled into impressive shapes, rose bushes, canopies and fountains…it spread widely despite where it sat upon the hill. A wide path cut through the area and stretched towards the palace, lined with oil lamps and crowded by a traffic of many ornate carriages, filled with clans of wealthy men, women and children. They were all guests at the gala tonight, no doubt drenched in an assortment of their finest evening wear. But Phil, who wore his own luxurious ensemble, couldn’t deny how comfortable it was. He knew he would only be dressed like this for the coming week, so he figured he should enjoy it. 

Hazel shifted opposite him, smoothing out the silk dress she’d stolen from the woman whose throat she’d cut only twenty minutes ago. It was almost pristine – Phil knew how seamless she was with a knife, so of course the dress had no splatters of blood. Their eyes met, and Phil offered her a smile in reassurance. 

The blonde-haired girl raised her eyebrows. Of course, she never needed reassurance.

Despite the nerves that rumbled through his stomach and limbs, Phil smiled wider and turned away. Hazel was probably one of the bravest people Phil had ever known, especially as one of the best Blade-wielders in the Resistance, who were most skilled in close combat. 

Phil could never summon enough courage to do what she and the rest of her unit did. Assassinating guards and other threats with the strike of one arm, risking their lives in hand-to-hand combat rather than fighting from a distance, and always, _always_ aware of their opponent. Hazel had been trained to never let her guard down, even when she wasn’t fighting. Phil could see in the way she sat – back straight, eyes alert and darting left to right, elbows close to her sides – that she was ready to face danger if it came. It was one of the reasons she was chosen for this mission. 

Phil, on the other hand, had a different role. He belonged to a unit of spies, gifted in the art of deceit, fraud and manipulation. Although he too had been somewhat trained for combat, it was rare that spies would have to handle a fight. Instead, Phil lived by the rule, _keep your friends close and your enemies closer_. With the face of an angel and the charm of a siren, he could gain the trust of anyone despite his status as a slave. His ability to lie and beguile had scraped him out of too many situations to count, and sometimes even seduced a few people. 

This week, as the best member of his Espionage unit, he was tasked with the greatest job he’d ever been given. Everything he’d learnt as a spy would be tested during these several days, and one screw up could cost him the lives of everyone on this mission, let alone his own. 

Suddenly, the gravelly voice of Jonas, who was posing as the coachman, floated through the window and snapped Phil from his thoughts. “We’re approaching the palace gates now,” he called. Everyone inside the carriage straightened up. “We’ve got inspection first, and once we’re through, I’ll circle the courtyard. The footmen group we’ve planted within the palace will take the luggage and escort you to the entrance. I’ll drive the carriage round to the stables, just like everyone else. Heard all that?”

“Got it, Jonas,” came the growl of Markus, who was smoothing out his cravat. Then he cleared his throat and looked round at Phil, Hazel and Elias, a Medic who had also been placed on the mission. 

“I assume all of you are ready for tonight,” Markus began, stomach almost bulging from his waistcoat. He waited for everyone to nod before continuing, “Excellent. Now, this week, we are the Haines family. To you, I am Lord Evan Haines, your husband or father. We will attend all balls and parties together to keep up appearances, but of course you have separate assignments to complete; those will be done alone. Elias? Or should I say, Nikolaus Haines?”

“Yes?” Elias said. He took a moment to flatten out his greased black hair. 

“What occupation do you intend to follow?”

“I will become an academic just like you, specialising in the history and geography of our country, Hathage. I’m already tutored by you and other professors, and attend classes at the Hathagean School for the Erudite. Nothing will stand in the way of my career.”

“That’s perfect. Hazel – or Lady Ania?”

“Yes,” she answered confidently. 

“For how many years have we been married?”

“Sixteen, when you remarried two – no, three years after your first wife’s death.”

“Make sure you remember that. Phil – Hugo – what rank are you in Hathage’s military and how long have you been training for?”

“I am a Private, serving for two years and counting.” 

“Terrific,” Markus said. “I trust you’ll all do fine this week. And remember – Jonas is our informant, and your go-to man to report any vital info you find. He’s staying in the accommodation for the other coachmen, right next to the stables. As far as we know, guest access to that is fairly easy.”

Hazel nodded, drawing a deep breath as a determined look set upon her face. Elias scratched his pointy chin, appearing to mull over what Markus had said.

There was a moment of silence, until Phil asked sullenly, “They’ll be expecting us, won’t they?” 

“Of course they will,” Markus replied. “You know how hard the King’s forces have been trying to track our movements. Security will be amplified this week, as it is with every event. But we have an advantage – they have no idea when we intend to strike the hardest.”

“But that’ll be during this gala,” Hazel said. 

“Exactly, which means _everything_ must go right this week. We only have one shot at this. If we fail, we bring the whole Resistance down with us. But if we win, the monarchy will fall and all Eluthians will be freed.”

Another glance out the window and Phil saw they were metres away from the palace gates. “We’re at inspection now,” he told the others.

A moment of apprehensive silence passed. Then Elias lifted his hand in the centre of the carriage, and said hopefully, “As many we are bound by chains…”

Hearing the start of the Resistance’s motto, Hazel and Markus placed their hands over Elias’ without hesitation. Phil stared at them, all possible outcomes of this week zooming through his mind. He saw the Resistance executed at the hands of the nobility, but he also saw their oppressors beaten and destroyed. He saw the greatest punishment imaginable for his people, but he also saw them rejoicing in their reclaimed freedom. And despite all the devastating consequences that could befall them, something inside told him that no matter what, _they would win._

So Phil filled his lungs with an unwavering breath, and then placed his hand on top of the pile. And together the group continued, “…as one we are bound by nothing.”

*

With a few introductions, some light-hearted banter and the invitation that Markus pulled out of his coat, the group successfully passed through inspection. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief when the guards admitted them, but now they were finally within the palace, the dread returned. The week seemed to loom upon them like a heavy thundercloud, and they would be the first to break it.

Jonas drove the carriage through the courtyard, following the train of vehicles around the immense fountain that sat in the centre. Phil took the opportunity to gaze at the intricate stone and gold sculpture of many god-like figures, water pouring from their mouths or fingertips. It was almost a shame that the brilliant work of art may be destroyed by the end of the week. But suddenly the carriage was slowing to a stop outside the palace stairs, and Phil tore his eyes away from it and focused on the task at hand. 

Footmen dressed in black and gold livery approached the carriage, collecting suitcases and bags that had belonged to the real Haines family. One man pulled the door open and offered a hand to each member of the group as they stepped out onto the cobbles. Phil didn’t recognise any of the men from the Resistance, but Markus gave them all a polite nod that held hidden meaning. One of the footmen even returned it with a light smirk. 

“You must be the Haines family,” he addressed everyone, not even looking at the invitation Markus handed him. “My men and I will escort you up the stairs and into the palace, where the first ball of the night awaits you. Do not worry about your luggage – it will be taken to your rooms immediately. Now, if you will all please follow me…”

Phil heard the crack of a whip against the horses, and the lurch of the carriage as Jonas drove away, and he knew there was no turning back. The palace stood before him, all windows and turrets and gold carvings towering above him as if it was trying to be intimidating. But suddenly…it wasn’t. Phil saw nothing but the abominable royal family who hid behind this pathetic stronghold and took pride in conducting the suffering of his people. He wasn’t threatened by it – in fact, he felt he could tear it apart brick by brick right now. 

But he couldn’t. He had a job to do, and besides, in the long run it _would_ allow him to tear the palace apart. So Phil Lester stood straighter, made his way up the staircase, and followed his ‘family’ and the footmen that escorted them. Because right now he was no longer Phil Lester. He was Hugo Haines, son of Lord Evan Haines and a Private in Hathage’s military. 

He was about to, in other words, celebrate the birthday of this glorious nation’s future king, and he was going to bloody well enjoy it. 

*

Phil had never known the Prince of Croma before. To some, that might’ve come as a surprise, as he’d lived in the kingdom for nearly 18 years. But he belonged to the lowest caste of people in the realm. Enduring torture and working like a dog in the slave system meant that the royal family were the furthest out of his reach. Only when the King and Queen performed speeches, hosted national events or toured the kingdom had their son been present. But Phil had only seen him from afar; sometimes it was like he was never there. Phil got the impression that he was sheltered away, put on display for the wealthy and hidden from the penniless drudges. This meant that Phil was plunging into his mission almost blind, expected to deceive a prince he knew nothing about. 

He voiced this to Elias when they made their rounds with Hazel and Markus, shaking a hundred hands and plastering on smiles for people he cared nothing about. Most of the guests were exactly as he had expected – snobbish, gaudy and too big for their boots. With a glass of something in their fingers, they could chatter all night about themselves and nothing else. Phil soon realised he knew at least one thing about the Prince – he’d be exactly like every pompous pig in this room. 

“But it’s your job to get to know the bastard, isn’t it?” Elias whispered in reply once everyone else was occupied. He tucked his arms behind his back and stood straighter to appear less shady. “Besides, you’ve had the briefing on ‘im. What was it? 21 years old, pretty educated…”

“…A bit of a sheltered mummy’s boy,” Phil replied, before offering a polite smile to a lady who glided past. 

Elias snickered beside him and nodded. “Most likely. And you know his daily schedule and all that, right? All’s left is his personality.” 

“Sometimes that’s the hardest to tackle,” Phil sighed. “You can’t very well trick someone without knowing their ins and outs first. People have so many layers to them…you don’t know what you’ll find underneath.”

“Says the spy,” Elias scoffed under his breath.

Before Phil could even laugh, the background music and the rumble of conversation suddenly dissipated. One booming voice rung out, bouncing off marble pillars and panelled walls. Phil turned his eyes with the rest of the crowd to a man who stood upon a raised platform, two scarlet curtains falling behind him. As he began to announce the entrance of the royal family, Phil drew a slow breath. This was it. The moment those curtains pulled back, his mission would begin. 

First his eyes landed on King Arran and Queen Jenea, their harsh faces and overbearing wealth all too familiar. They waved to their applauding subjects, almost glittering in their matching white and gold attire. Phil wanted to smash the crowns off their heads, watch them shatter on the polished floor. The royals didn’t deserve the power they had. In their thirst for domination over the realm, their legions had ruthlessly conquered other nations, and they had killed, maimed and captured hundreds of his people from their native country Eluthia. But Phil forced himself to applaud, and let his fury boil hot and silent within him, knowing the age of monarchy would soon be over.

When his eyes shifted to the young man who stood between them, a little to the back, his anger didn’t falter. In fact, being able to study the Prince for the first time only fed it. Undoubtedly, Prince Daniel would have been raised exactly like his parents. Something horrible churned in Phil’s stomach at the thought of befriending someone like him, someone who was nothing but proud and pretentious, and who spat upon those lower than himself. 

Although, Phil had to admit his appearance took him by surprise. While his parents’ faces were sharp and lined, the Prince’s was like milk and honey. Dimples carved out his rounded cheeks when he smiled at the crowd, and his brown eyes held a mellow warmth. He had a curly head of coffee-coloured hair that looked as soft as feathers, and he seemed so delicate standing there in his white uniform jacket, polished gold buttons and black boots. 

Phil always had an eye for handsome-looking men, as well as women. He’d realised that a long time ago and wasn’t ashamed of it. But he quickly reminded himself that he wasn’t here to gawk at the Prince’s fine appearance, when he was bound to be hideous underneath. However…his smile seemed a little too forced, his rosy lips stretching too wide, as if he was uncomfortable standing there. But it made no sense to Phil…a prince, standing anxious before the people he reigned over? He dismissed the thought. 

As the royal family descended the platform and started greeting everybody, Phil and Elias hurriedly joined Hazel and Markus. They were grinning and chatting to another couple, Markus’s hand comfortably resting on Hazel’s waist. Phil heard mentions of the Prince and ballroom decorations as he approached, but then four pairs of eyes were on him and Elias as Markus introduced them.

The couple lived here in Croma, both involved in the military, but Phil didn’t bother remembering their names. He simply smiled and went on with rehearsed small talk, pretending to be interested in what they had to say about themselves. 

After a while, Markus pulled him aside and muttered in his ear, “The royal family will greet everyone tonight. Make sure you get the Prince alone at some point, if not after you meet him formally.”

Phil nodded, stepping back a little. “Don’t worry, I’ll get my opportunity,” he replied softly, eyes glancing over puffy gowns, elaborate hairstyles and war medallions. “It shouldn’t be very hard if he’s too distracted by himself.”

“Watch yourself, Phil,” Markus warned. “Don’t let your anger blind your better judgement. You know not to underestimate anyone.”

“Y-Yes, sorry. You’re right. I’ll be more careful.”

“And make sure you bow when you meet him.”

“I might be befriending him but I will not _bow_ to him.”

“Well, if you want to compromise this mission and our lives…don’t bow.”

Phil let out an indignant sigh. He knew he was being foolish anyway. “Fine. I guess there are worse things.”

“Of course there are,” Markus replied. “Just remember what’ll happen if you disrespect your prince.”

“He’s not my prince, Markus,” Phil mumbled. 

“You’re right about that, at least.” 

But Phil never got the chance to greet Prince Daniel and his parents. He watched them get through around half the guests as he planned his first words to the boy in his head, when the small orchestra at the back (no doubt made up of slaves) struck up a tune that settled the party. And then Prince Daniel was in the centre, waltzing across the dance floor with a pretty blonde woman in his arms. 

All the guests seemed captivated by the performance, but as Phil kept watching he noticed that uncomfortable look return to the Prince’s face. It was strange…half the nation adored him, he had a princess of some sort almost clinging to him, and he was about to become the King of Croma. So why did he look like this palace was the last place he wanted to be?

Phil decided to finally meet His Royal Highness during the second dance, while everyone would be caught up in their own fantasies. So as the pretty couple slipped into their next waltz, he sucked in some air, straightened his back and made his way towards them. But something seemed off the closer he came. He watched as the woman murmured something to Prince Daniel, all cheeky and seductive, but the Prince obviously looked very uneasy about it. In fact, he started to tense up the closer she drew to him. 

It would take an idiot not to notice what was going on here. And Phil was no idiot. For whatever reason, the Prince did _not_ want to be near that woman, not now or perhaps ever. But the blonde hadn’t noticed, and now she was closing her eyes and puckering her lips, and the Prince was leaning as far back as possible…

Strangely, Phil felt a twinge of sympathy for the young man. He knew the feeling, having someone come onto you so forcefully like that. No one deserved to be assaulted in that way, whether it was with a simple kiss or a lot more.

So Phil seized his opportunity, and in a few strides he had taken the Prince by the arm and yanked him away from the woman’s clutches. “My apologies, ma’am,” he told her. “It just seems a bit rude of you to have the Prince all to yourself. May I step in?”

♛

Dan was waltzing again. But this time with a young _man._

He was dancing in the centre of a crowded ballroom…with a _man._

He stared bug-eyed at his sudden saviour, still anxious and unsure as they stepped in time with the music. Everything had happened so fast, his rationale sort of fizzled out. One moment Maren was pretty much climbing all over him, and the next he was being swept away by someone else. A man. Another actual man, dancing with the Prince under the gaze of hundreds of aristocrats. Was he insane?

But this was different than with Maren…the boy left a fair amount of space between them, and held him gently. One hand brushed his waist, as light as a feather, while the other curled softly around his fingers. His touch woke the butterflies in Dan’s stomach, he made sure Dan was comfortable and…it was nice. It was nice, to dance with a boy. But it was wrong. His parents were probably watching. And the people would talk. 

“Who are you?” Dan breathed, unable to help himself. His heartbeat thudded against his brain, scattered his thoughts. “You know w-we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Shouldn’t we?” the boy asked, raising his eyebrows. “And why not?”

“I think you have a very good idea as to _why not_. I’m the Prince of Croma, if you haven’t realised. And I’m not supposed to be – to be dancing with other _men_.”

“But you haven’t pulled away, have you, your Highness?”

Heat pooled in Dan’s cheeks, but he pulled his face into a frown. He would not think about that right now. Fear still bubbled in the pit of his stomach, a monster of anxiety growing the more he remained in this boy’s arms. He couldn’t hear all the murmured gossip over the music, but it was there…people staring, scrutinising, whispering to their friends…rumours tumbling over each other like violent waves crashing against sand. 

“What are you doing?” he blurted out eventually, searching the boy’s face for any hint that this was a joke. “No, _why_ are you doing this?”

The boy spun him across the marble floor, his grasp firm but comforting. “Honestly? I saw what that girl was doing to you, and I couldn’t stand by and do nothing about it. If that’s what you wanted, sire…?”

Dan opened his mouth to reply, but paused, leaving his jaw hanging open. Could this boy be that kind-hearted, or was there more to what had just happened? No one in this society would dare pull the Prince away from a woman, no matter the situation…So who was this gentleman? Eventually Dan remembered to reply, stammering out, “O-Oh. Thank you. Yes, it is – what I wanted…I actually appreciate that quite a lot.”

“I was just doing what I thought was right,” the boy shrugged. 

“But no one else would’ve done what you did.”

“Well, I don’t blame anyone else for failing to notice their own _Prince_ was in trouble. Too busy flaunting their big headed selves around, the bastards…” the boy muttered, before his eyes flashed with horror at what he’d said. “Oh, please, please forgive me, sire, I–” 

But Dan was too busy bursting into laughter as he looked up at the boy, both horrified and amused. “No – stop – honestly, don’t apologise, please. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. But you can’t just say things like that here. Do you have any idea what these people would do to you?”

The boy’s eyes darted over Dan’s face in panic, obviously surprised by his reaction. Then he stuttered out, “I – I’m all too familiar with what our kind of people are capable of.”

Those words made the laugher die in Dan’s mouth. He wondered if he’d been too quick to make assumptions about who he was. Maybe they were more similar than he thought? After all, there had to be others within the aristocracy who despised Croma’s class system. “…Who are you?” Dan asked after a moment. “I didn’t get an answer before.”

“My name is Hugo Haines,” the boy said with a nervous chuckle. “It’s an honour meeting you, Your Highness.” 

“I might vomit if you address me like that again. Call me Prince Daniel, or even Dan. You seem normal enough for that.”

Hugo gave him a strange look, inquisitiveness churning behind his eyes. Dan frowned a little. It almost felt like the dark-haired boy was turning his soul inside and out, searching for something. _Well, it’s not every day you meet a Prince who laughs at the slander of his own people and hates his titles_ , Dan thought. _I would be confused too._

Suddenly his eyes landed on two guards who were weaving their way through the dancing couples towards them. Dan’s stomach dropped. The feeling of calm that had settled within him was now gone. He gulped. There was no way he would let these guards make a scene. His mother had probably sent them to force Dan away, shove him into a _woman’s_ arms instead. The talk of the crowd reached his ears through the music. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be here.

Hugo had obviously seen the guards and sensed his anxiety when he slowed their dancing. “Um, D-Dan, I know this is your party and everything, but did you want to get out of here?” he muttered.

“You know, I’d like that very much,” Dan replied, meeting his eyes. He glanced over Hugo’s shoulder and found one of the many sets of doors around the ballroom. This one, he knew, lead out into a grand sitting room with walls that drowned in framed landscapes, and from there they could escape into the gardens…

“Come with me,” he said, not even thinking as he grabbed Hugo’s wrist and tugged him through the now curious-looking guests. He could hear their hushed gossip, wondering why their Prince was fleeing the ballroom with another man. In the back of his mind he knew there would be hundreds of rumours by the time the sun rose, but in that moment he couldn’t care less.

For the first time in his life he’d stumbled across a boy who wasn’t just beautiful, but seemed to understand him when so many others hadn’t. Dan wasn’t about to let him go. 

They reached the doors to the sitting room, and Dan shoved the handle down before darting inside and dragging Hugo behind. The music, the endless chatter and the guards’ heavy footsteps were all silenced when he drove the heavy things shut. 

“…Um, where exactly are we going?” Hugo asked as Dan hurried further into the room, rounding golden poufs and candelabras.

Dan waited until he reached another panelled door before answering, “To the gardens. They’re so elaborate, the guards won’t find us there.”

“But you _are_ supposed to be back in that ballroom, aren’t you? Mingling with everyone and dancing the night away?”

“I am not going back there, especially if I have to mingle,” Dan laughed. He opened the door and beckoned Hugo closer. “Now hurry up, before they drag me back like a screaming child.”

Hugo sent him another curious look, before shaking his head and following him across the room. After passing through a few lavish libraries and drawing rooms, they eventually ended up in a stone corridor. It was a great step down from the palace’s extravagance; blackened mould coated the nooks and crevices, dusty torches sent a dim glow along the walls and the clack of their footsteps sent an eerie echo down the passage. And it was terribly cold. But Dan had snuck down this corridor plenty of times before. While Hugo let out a shivery breath from behind, he barely felt the temperature drop.

It was almost second-nature, finding the ancient wooden door buried deep into the stone. As usual, a familiar iron key was wedged into the lock and it took a few twists before Dan swung the door wide, and the pair stepped into another world.

Old stepping stones with moss smothering the edges trailed off from the doorway and into a lush garden. Jasmine, ivy and other creeper vines loomed above them, gobbling at worn granite walls until the rock could hardly be seen. There were rose bushes that bloomed with light pink petals, chiselled stone benches and bird baths that sunk into the grass and potted camellia, lavender and various other shrubs left to overgrow. But what made it all so enchanting were the stars, releasing their magic from a velvet black sky to touch the foliage and blooming flowers. 

Dan grew lost for a moment, arms behind his back as he wandered into the almost-forest. He’d always loved the fantasy of it, a favourite hideaway second to his balcony. You could lose yourself among the plants for hours, with all the maze-like pathways and secret clearings. 

“I think I envy this palace,” Hugo piped up from behind.

His voice snapped Dan from his trance, who spun around to grin at the dark-haired boy. He too was gazing up at the flowering creepers in wonder. “I _know_. This is where I spend half my time, if I’m honest. Do you have any gardens like this where you live?”

Hugo seemed startled for a moment. But almost instantly his face smoothed over and he nodded. “We do back at home, but never as grand as this. Even our holiday villa here is a bit sparse.” 

“So you’re not from Croma, then?” Dan asked, perking up. “I knew your accent was unfamiliar.”

“No, my family is from – uh, Hathage. In the north?” 

“I’ve probably heard of it. I wouldn’t remember, though.”

“It’s an old ally, I’m pretty sure. This is my first visit to your kingdom, actually. My father is quite a well-known scholar where I’m from, and the King of Croma wanted to meet him finally to commend him for his work and all that.”

Dan nodded, racking his brain for memories of Hathage as they passed through an archway lit by torches. The pair had automatically fallen into step once they started talking and for once, Dan was ignoring the scenery around them. “So Hathage is an ally…Oh, they – they helped in conquering Eluthia, didn’t they?”

He didn’t miss the way Hugo’s brilliant blue eyes turned to steel. “Yes, they helped,” he said, voice clipped.

“…Maybe if they hadn’t, Eluthia would still be a free nation,” Dan murmured.

“And you’d prefer that? You’d prefer to lose all your precious slaves, and do your own dirty work?” 

“I mean…yes, I think I would,” he admitted, startled by Hugo’s outburst. “It’s a bit heartless, don’t you think? Tearing a people away from their homeland?”

Hugo’s face softened a little at that, despite his heavy frown. “I – yes. I suppose it is heartless. You know, I apologise, your Highness. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“You need to stop apologising to me. And I thought I told you to call me Dan?” 

“Right. Dan. Sorry about – oh, I mean…”

Dan’s fond laughter cut him off. “It’s alright, Hugo,” he said, nudging his shoulder. 

Again, he was met with a split second of uneasiness on Hugo’s face, but he could never guess why. There was something about the dark-haired boy that seemed off...Dan finally glanced away, deciding to leave it alone for a while.

As they walked through the gardens, the conversation shifted and spun off into random topics. Small talk moved into sharing backgrounds, which became interests and funny anecdotes. Then it was anything that came to mind, laughter floating up into the night as they talked and talked. Dan soon realised he’d never known someone as interesting as Hugo, and someone who had never been as interested in him. Within an hour he knew that Hugo’s favourite meal was always breakfast, had a terrible fear of horses, and was about as uncoordinated as a drunken baby giraffe. In fact, the more Dan got to know him, the more endearing he seemed. Gone was the self-assured and formal gentleman from the ballroom – Dan liked his friendlier side a lot better. 

Hugo seemed genuinely eager to get to know him as well. He was very open, asked Dan many questions about himself and related to him easily. It was a bit strange, talking to someone who was invested in _him_ rather than his wealth or status. Dan clung to the hope that they would still be friends after tonight, forcing away any thoughts that suggested something more than friendship. He was still the Prince, and if his secret ever got out he would end up with a devastated name and a broken heart. Friends. Friends was more than enough. 

At some point they’d stopped walking and sat themselves on the edge of a large stone fountain, erected in the middle of a clearing. The steady trickle of water was soothing, and filled the silence that eventually lapsed between them. But it was comfortable. Dan had never shared comfortable silence with anyone other than Louise.  
Somehow, for some reason, it was just _easy_ with Hugo.

The quiet was eventually disrupted when the dark-haired boy said, “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Dan snorted. And then properly laughed. “You know, you’re the first person to ever say that to me tonight,” he chuckled out. “Thank you.”

Hugo was grinning along with him. “You’re welcome, oh Majestic One. Oh great ruler over this glorious empire.” 

“ _Shut up_ ,” Dan giggled, shoving him gently. “I already told you I hate all that shit.”

“…Did the Prince of Croma just curse?” Hugo asked, actually looking a little shocked. “Wow. You never really know someone, huh.”

“You’re infuriating,” Dan muttered, but he was smiling. 

There was another silence. Dan lifted his eyes to the sky, watching the stars for a moment before looking back at Hugo. Up close, he could finally study him, and Dan bit his lip when he noticed just how breathtaking the boy really was. Under the moonlight, his face was made of marble. A light flush on his cheeks held the same colour as his porcelain pink lips, and his eyebrows curved sharply around eyes that weren’t just blue. They seemed to hold a churning sea. And it hurt, just a little, knowing he could never have this boy who was so, so remarkable. 

Dan forced himself to look away, averting his gaze to the grass. He couldn’t do this. He _couldn’t_ put himself through this. He was supposed to find a bride tonight, not a…not a groom. _Stop doing this to yourself_ , he thought angrily. _There is no one else like you. You’re a prince. You will never find a boy you can love freely._

“I think we should go back,” Dan said suddenly, looking up at the hedgerows ahead. He felt Hugo’s surprised gaze and ignored it. “It’s getting late, and the King and Queen are going to be furious if I’m away any longer.” 

He stood up quickly and brushed off the back of his pants, but before he could move he felt Hugo’s hand secure around his wrist. 

“Wait,” the boy insisted. “I need to tell you something before we go.”

Dan hesitated before meeting Hugo’s worried eyes. He sat back down with a soft sigh and nodded. 

“Okay,” Hugo began with a deep breath. He didn’t let go of Dan’s wrist. “My name…isn’t actually Hugo. It’s Phil.”

“What?”

“My name is Phil…Phil Haines.”

“But you said before, it was Hugo.”

“I know. But it’s not Hugo. It’s Phil.” 

“Why – why did you tell me it was Hugo?” Dan stared at the dark-haired boy, mouth hung open and eyebrows almost touching they were so furrowed. All thoughts of the ball and his parents flew out of his brain. That was so unusual, and confusing, and a bit distressing. Why would anyone give him a completely different name? Was Hugo – Phil – whoever he was telling the truth? 

“Well, it’s – um – actually kind of funny,” the boy started to explain awkwardly. “In my family, Hugo’s a bit of a, uh, nickname. A running joke sort of thing. My real name is Phil Haines. It’s just sometimes I forget to introduce myself as Phil, because people call me Hugo all the time at home.” 

Dan narrowed his eyes, finding the whole story a bit fishy. “…Are you screwing with me right now?” he demanded with a slight smirk.

“No! I swear I’m not. This is the truth. I _am_ Phil.”

“Okay then…Phil. If I asked your family, would they say the same thing?”

“Absolutely. I’m serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You can trust me, Dan.”

A defeated sigh left Dan’s lips when he saw the boy’s stern expression. “Fine, I believe you. But you’re really strange, Phil, you know that?”

“Y-Yes, I am aware,” Phil laughed, sounding relieved. “Shall we go, then?”

“Yeah, we actually should.”

They didn’t speak as they made their way back to the palace. Dan used his memory and the twilight to retrace their steps – the pair had wandered further than they’d realised. Eventually the turrets and golden roofs of the palace were peering over the garden hedges, growing closer and closer, looming like a death sentence. Music and conversation were fearsome creatures that balanced on the wind, and warm light began to shine through the foliage like blades to his body. Soon he would be back among that stifling hall of high society, pretending, pretending, _pretending_. 

In that moment, passing overgrown shrubs and old garden furniture with Phil by his side, Dan wanted nothing more than to turn back and disappear forever. He felt trapped, suffocated by his own future. He wanted to escape it. He wanted to flee. How could he subject himself to the life that awaited him? The life of a king who _must_ have a wife and children, who surrounded himself in his own wealth and self-importance, who forced other human beings into slavery…

Dan’s life was a nightmare slowly coming true, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

But then he and Phil reached the clearing where they had snuck from the palace. Dan stepped back into the chilly stone passage, squashing down that horrible cloud of anxiety in his stomach. He waited until his dark-haired friend had followed him inside. 

And after one lingering glance out into the garden, into a sky full of constellations, the Prince of Croma dragged the door shut and sealed his fate for the coming week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter one! yes, it is very long. most chapters from now on will probably be over 10k - and to think i wanted the whole thing done in 10k. yikes. anyway, i hope you guys like this one! thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> wow! so that was the prologue?? hope you guys liked it - i can't wait to post more of this fic in the future. i'm really, really excited for it, you have _no_ idea. for anyone who decides to come on this journey with me, thank you so much!!! i appreciate any support i get. all credit for beta-ing this goes to zoe!! (@slowtown__) 
> 
> also, i'm georgia, and i'm new on ao3. i've always had it but i've never posted anything here until now. i've always uploaded fics to wattpad and tumblr, so check me out there (@luminaryhowell) if you want to read my other stuff! i will be posting most of it here in the future, though. see you guys in the next chapter!


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